The Lifeguard
by The Jasper Raven
Summary: There's a new lifeguard on duty in Bodhum, one that would have every man faux drowning for a shot at getting mouth to mouth…If she weren't so terrifying. Sadly, Hope doesn't have to fake it. [Non-romantic]


**A/N: Firstly, yes, I'm aware that this concept has been done in every fandom known to the internet. I'm not publishing this because I think I'm being so original with this idea. This (very long) oneshot is just my own personal way of bidding farewell to the summer. It's been my writing of leisure for a while now where I just vented out my desire to visit the beach. Somehow - even though he was my least favorite character in 13 - I found my footing in Hope's perspective and it was a nice change to observe Lightning rather than write as her for once.  
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**Secondly, I DON'T SHIP HOPEXLIGHT and I never will (please, respect my shipping preference, thank you). And this oneshot IS NOT a romantic interpretation of their relationship in the slightest. This is just a for fun, day-in-the-life type of fic. I hope you guys enjoy it! :)  
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**The Lifeguard**

Were all moms so embarrassing? Or did his just _try_ to mortify him? It was some kind of punishment, it had to be! Laying there in the sun, listening to his mother make disturbingly suggestive comments about some young blonde that just passed by, Hope tried to remember where he had gone wrong. What had he done to deserve this torture?

"How about her, huh? She's pretty, looks about your age…"

"Mom, would you stop? Please!" he hissed, feeling the heat of shame blazing beneath his cheeks.

He knew that by responding, he was only giving Nora more fuel to antagonize him. Once she knew her teasing was having the desired effect, she latched onto his every reaction and bumped up the volume accordingly. He swore, sometimes she could be worse than a playground bully.

"I'm just trying to help you out, honey," Nora said, feigning innocence. "The beach is a great place to pick up girls."

"Mom!"

"Oh, don't 'mom' me. It's not like I'm going to walk up and ask a girl for her number for you. But, I'm allowed to give you my advice on who I think you'd have a shot with."

"Please stop talking," Hope moaned in agony, dragging the magazine he'd been reading over his face, like it could hide him from the entire world.

He heard her snicker beside him before flapping her own magazine back open and finally going quiet. Thank the fal'Cie for that! He had assumed that since they'd gone on this vacation without him, the focus of their conversations would be Hope's father. Although Nora's intent was more likely to forget about him, Hope was itching to use their time away from him to finally voice his own hidden feelings about Bartholomew. He underestimated his mother's skill at deflection though. The ease with which she turned everything back around onto Hope was not what he had anticipated. Having discerned that he was no match for his mother, Hope resigned himself to sitting in a stew of undesirable feelings until he could devise a way to best her.

"I'm gonna get something to drink," the gray-haired teen suddenly spoke up, desperate to get away from his thoughts.

"Got your money?"

"Yeah, Mom."

"Okay. Grab me an iced tea, please?"

"Sure, Mom."

"Don't be afraid to talk to the cashier girl while you're up there!"

"Okay, Mom!"

Grappling with a distressed blush, Hope marched away from the beach chairs at top speed, his eyes darting across every passerby's face for signs of mockery. He safely made it back across the beach without another trailing outburst from his mother. He stepped up onto the boardwalk with a relieved sigh, fighting off an amused smirk. As embarrassing as his mother could be, he still loved her, and her pokes and jabs to distract him from his worries were more welcomed than he would ever admit. And it also helped that Bodhum was one of the most relaxing cities he'd ever been to visit.

It was difficult to stay stressed about anything, especially when lounging on the pristine white beaches of the Seaside City. Listening to the shallow brush of waves against the sand and the carefree laughter of tourists and locals alike, made for a blissful retreat. The worry free smiles across everyone's faces were contagious. No matter what the reason, he was glad they'd come.

Hope joined the brief line at the little cabana stand on the boardwalk, blending with the beach crowd in his tropical swim trunks and faded blue T-shirt. He quietly observed the peaceful bustle around him while he waited. One thing his mother didn't understand about him was that he didn't enjoy interacting with people however, he loved to watch them. He loved to look at another boy his age, sharing a milkshake with his girlfriend, and imagine how they reached that point. He liked watching a happy family of four, playing with their kids in the sand, and wondering what it was like to live surrounded by laughter every day. He liked to imagine. Sometimes the truth behind every story wasn't what he wanted it to be.

He was distracted from his meandering thoughts for a moment when the dark-haired cabana girl suddenly shouted an unexpected greeting over the heads of her customers. Confused, Hope turned his head to look back at whomever she was addressing. (No one else in line seemed to be as curious.) There was a woman parting through the crowds, demanding the people to clear the way with a thunderous pace to her steps. The security uniform commanded the attention of those in her path even further. If the woman heard the cabana girl's friendly greeting, she was probably deliberately ignoring it. Glancing back at the girl, Hope could tell by her embarrassed grimace upon failing to get the woman's attention that she knew she was being ignored.

She went back to serving the couple in front of him, apologizing for her outburst. Hope looked back at the security guard, a crimson stream of cape tailing her like a serpent as she marched to the white brick building nestled beside the cabana: the lifeguard station. The buzz of alarm and excitement brought on by the woman's approach abruptly faded as she vanished through the station's glass doors. If it wasn't an emergency she was rushing to then, no one was interested.

"Next!"

Hope started unexpectedly when he realized the girl was calling for him and scurried up to the counter to mumble his order.

"Um…an iced tea and a Bodhum Slush, please."

"Comin' right up!"

Hope nodded, absently, unable to keep himself from peering over at the other building. As amusing as it was to make-up childish fantasies about the plain, average people that always crossed the boardwalk, it was the rare encounters with people that went against the tide of complacency that piqued Hope's curiosity the most. Asking and answering his own questions about the same types of people often became tired and repetitive. There were so many new and more complex questions that could be asked about people like that security guard. Why was she frowning when everyone else was smiling? Why did she keep looking ahead when everyone else started looking back? He loved people like that, people that stood independently from a sea of conformity. Their stories had so much more depth and intrigue to be explored.

"Helloooo? Kid? You seem a little distracted there, buddy."

Hope shook himself back into focus, blinking dazedly at the smiling woman behind the counter.

"O-Oh…sorry. How much did you say?"

"Eight twenty-five. And don't you mind Lightning, kid. That's just how she is."

"Who?"

The cashier giggled at his transparent attempt at pretending he wasn't outright staring at the lifeguard station. He blushed, furiously, slapping the money on the counter and swiping up the drinks and change she offered.

"Enjoy your day!" she called with typical Bodhum hospitality as he hurried out of line, his shoulders crunched up beneath his ears as he tried to conceal his humiliation. Again.

He was almost certain now that the entirety of the female population was out to get him. By the time he touched the sand and reached the beach chairs again, Hope had successfully masked his discomfort. The absolute _last_ thing he needed was for his mother to start prying about _that_.

"Here," he muttered when he sat back down, passing Nora her iced tea.

"Thanks, honey," she replied, taking an appreciative sip before turning towards him with a mischievous smile. "So, how'd it go?"

"How did _what_ go?"

"Did you try flirting with the cashier?"

"Ma! She's like twenty years older than me!"

"Which is great practice," Nora assured him. "If you can impress a woman older than you, you'll have no problem snagging a girl your own age."

"Mom, you are such a creep. That's called _pedophilia_."

Nora gave her son a playful slap on the arm, eliciting the vaguest of smiles from him as she said, "Oh, don't take everything so literally. You know I'd slit the throat of anyone who tried to make an inappropriate pass at you."

"And you wonder why I have dating issues," Hope sighed, laughing at Nora's expression as she lightly attacked him with her magazine.

"Oh, Hope, Hope, Hope," she sighed, tragically, as she leaned back in her chair. "What in the world am I going to do with you?"

Hope grinned around his straw as he took a long draw of his thick Slushie, finally feeling victorious over his mother. She smiled contentedly beside him and returned to her page flipping. It looked like she might finally drop the "girl talk," at least for that day. Hope leaned back in his chair, relieved and happy to be left to his silent observations in peace. He was just about settled into surveying an energetic (and rather pretty) red-head when a soft spray of up-turned sand brushed his arm and distracted his attention. He looked up to see the security guard from earlier, marching past his chair, barefoot in the loose sand.

An over-sized, gray T-shirt with "Bodhum Beach Security" emblazoned in bold, black letters on the back, hung loosely off her shoulders, ending just over her hips. He spotted the red strip of a standard issue lifeguard wetsuit against her collarbone where the neckline of the shirt fell away. A silver whistle glinted in warning around her neck, and there was a rather intimidating clipboard fisted in her hand, along with a typical guard's life raft. She stalked firmly across the sand, the soles of her feet planted in each step so she didn't stumble and sink like the other, more carefree beach-goers. The sea breeze lifted her corral pink hair in a fierce gust and her sharp, azure eyes remained fixed steadily ahead upon the stark-white structure at the forefront of the beach.

Hope fondly referred to the lifeguards' tall vantage point as "the nest." No matter how fearless – and often times frivolous – as his mother was, whenever they marked their spot on the beach, Nora always insisted on being nearer to the lifeguards' stand. She preferred the sense of security that came with being close to people of authority. Although, Hope hardly thought of the pair of lifeguards stationed there that day as "authoritative." They were the typical youths that signed on for a summer job, saving for college or just in need of passing time. This pair he could tell signed on to spend more time together. They were making it no secret that they were a couple, the girl a tiny thing with a short, dirty blonde hair, and the guy a well-toned red-head with an impressive side-swept mohawk. Since they'd arrived on the beach, the only experience they proved to have was in canoodling and suggestive whispering. Their whistles screeched frequently but, it seemed to him that it was always just to prove that they could. He usually couldn't tell who they were whistling to out in the water – and clearly the swimmers couldn't tell ether by their confused head turning. The volley of fierce whistles often ended in giggling and playful slaps to each other. It was blatantly obvious to anyone watching them that they didn't take their jobs seriously. At least, Hope certainly wouldn't trust them with _his_ life.

He, apparently, wasn't the only one who thought so. The security guard, Lightning, reached the pair of lifeguards, her sudden appearance quite visibly startling them. They were set up close enough so Hope could hear the extent of their conversation with the aid of the sea-breeze carrying their voices even further back to him. The pair seemed to recognize Lightning but, not in a friendly capacity. It was clear to Hope that the woman had some sort of reputation that instilled fear in the young couple. He could see nervous laughter in their faces as they greeted her. She didn't greet them back, standing at the base of "the nest," glaring at the clipboard in her hand.

"Dean Rice and Temple Carbinite," he heard Lightning address them, her husky voice just as piercing and cool as he expected. "By order of the Guardian Corps. Bodhum Security Regiment, I've been issued to evaluate your performance as active members of Beach Security."

Her tone was clipped, like she was restraining herself from shouting at them. There was also a harsh tension in her posture, indicating that she was far from pleased that she'd been issued to this assignment. When the male lifeguard – Dean Rice, Hope presumed – suddenly stood up with indignant remarks that questioned her position there, the look of animosity in her gaze as she looked up at him was so scalding, Hope could practically feel it from where he sat. Her reproach was terse and slightly disgusted, and hardly scripted like how she'd been reading from her clipboard.

"Over the past month, this sector has experienced the most accidents and the least amount of prompt reaction from the stationed aids. The Guardian Corps. is extremely concerned about the well-being of Bodhum's citizens, and they have every right to be. Your performance in responding to emergencies has been the most lack and irresponsible as we've seen in a long time."

This time, it was the girl, Temple, who stood up beside her "co-worker." They seemed to think that because they stood on higher ground, they had some sort of edge over Lightning. The woman was far from thinking the same, her posture erect and poised as if for some kind of battle, more like a soldier than a meager guard.

"What do you mean, '_irresponsible?_'" Temple exclaimed, nasally-voiced, and tossing her arm about as if it spoke for her. "No one's drowned here because of us!"

Lightning snorted in derision and rolled her eyes, unimpressed by the younger woman's display. She thumbed through the pages on her clipboard and withdrew a paper-clipped stack, thrusting it up at the offended pair.

"I've been instructed to provide you with the filed accident reports for the past two months. Read it. And if you have a problem with the Guardian Corps.' order of evaluation, you can file a complaint at the security offices. Now, move over."

Dean snatched up the file and acquiesced to her order with a mild, side-long glare. Temple made no effort to clear space for Lightning, instead sitting right back down, inconveniently at the center of the four-stair structure. Lightning made no comment, nimbly climbing up onto the second-highest rung and making certain the way down to the sand was clear. Hope craned his neck slightly, distressed with the change in positions. Now that they were all seated, their backs were to him and the white wooden boards of the stand barred his view. He wanted to see Dean's reaction to the accident report. He wanted to know how severe it really was. And he wanted to see the contrast between Lightning and Temple, to compare the features of a true officer of the people against the false, billboard copy.

All he could see was arms and legs. He watched Dean pass the file to Temple and she obstinately refused to take it, her arms crossed over the alarming red swimsuit. He thought he could see Lightning scribbling something on her clipboard in response. It was a relief, Hope thought, that Bodhum took their security so seriously. He hadn't expected such, based on the lax and lazy atmosphere. He supposed someone had to be working hard to keep it that way.

After Lightning's arrival, the lifeguards' stand remained solemnly quiet. The soft cajoling and endless cuddling ceased completely. Hope rather liked it that way. He'd tried to close his eyes and take one of those coveted beach naps multiple times that day, only to be jerked awake by a prank whistle or a girlish squeal. He'd finally get some peace and quiet now that they were finally under control. However, he wasn't even sure he'd want to nap now, lest he miss some more scolding. It always gave Hope a strange satisfaction to see careless people get told off like that. It reassured him that there was some order to the universe after all.

A couple minutes passed with no further outbursts from the lifeguards. Hope finished his Slushie with a loud slurp, draining it to the last drop. There was a garbage can a few steps in front of their beach chairs…and conveniently closer to the lifeguards. He got up and took his mother's empty iced tea cup. She murmured thanks, deeply intent on the article she was reading. Hope rolled his eyes a little and went to throw the containers away. The sand was soft and hot beneath his toes, and the water looked cool and inviting, an endless blue ribbon crushed against the beach. Maybe he'd go for a swim that day. He wasn't very wild about swimming, a product of watching too many nautical horror films before he was "old enough" for them. The water was so crystal clear in Bodhum though, he didn't think he'd be able to resist.

He arrived at the garbage can and immediately turned his attention to the lifeguards. They wouldn't notice him if he stared, so fixed were they on whatever was already occupying their attention. Temple leaned her head against her hand, glaring out at the beach-goers enjoying the water, her freckled face sourly twisted. Dean sat with his elbows on his knees, unable to stay focused on the waves. His gaze drifted between the two women from beneath the fringe of his red-orange hair, once or twice lingering on Lightning, as if he were reconsidering his choice of companion. Hope had a feeling the wrathful look on Temple's face had something to do with that.

Lightning, however, was intently ignoring the both of them, her cerulean gaze glued to all the bobbing heads dotting the waves. Hope could just catch the irises shifting from left to right in a methodical scan over the territory. She was perfectly poised for action, her bare feet lightly planted against the painted wood, ideally set to spring up at the slightest hint of trouble. Her clipboard sat beside her, any notes she'd been required to take on her "subjects" already completed so there was nothing to distract her from her job. One hand rested on the bright red life raft, fingers slightly curled over one handle, ready to take it and run. Now, _that_ was who he wanted guarding _his_ life.

"Ha-hey, Lightning!"

The unexpected shout made Hope jump in fright. He whipped his head around in alarm and had no difficulty pinpointing the source of the noise. A blond, giant of a man in navy swim-trunks and a matching bandanna over his head, came thundering across the sand, a blinding smile shining across his tanned face. He was hand in hand with a smaller woman with cotton candy hair and dressed in a flowery bikini. She was laughing in delight at the man's excitement, albeit struggling to keep up with his vast gait. Looking back at the lifeguards, it was quite evident that Dean and Temple were just as startled by the outburst as he was. Lightning remained particularly stalwart in her position, no motion indicating that she even noticed the approaching disturbance. Although, by the hardening in her face and the slight tensing of her shoulders, it was clear she was aware of the pair and – regrettably – recognized them.

Hope quickly ducked his head as the new-comers galloped past him, sand spraying against the backs of his calves. They didn't notice him and he wasn't sure why he was so paranoid as to think they would. He peered out from beneath his white-gray hair as the pair skidded to a halt at the base of "the nest." Dean jumped to his feet at the sight of the blond and reached over the side to exchange a greeting fist-bump.

"'Sup, Snow?" he chuckled. "What are you doin' this side of the beach?"

"Nice to see ya, man. Serah and I just came by to grab Lebreau when her shift finished. Then, we're off to hunt down your cousin," the other man replied, heartily.

"Gadot? He passed by a little earlier, headed to the surf shop, I think. Whaddya need him for?"

"To even out our teams for a game of volleyball. We've got Yuj and Maqui setting up for us further down the beach. You guys are welcome to join in on your next break! How 'bout it, Light? Up for some fun?"

The blond – Snow, was it? – turned his toothy white grin to Lightning. Through his conversation with the red-head, here posture had grown prickly and by the way her jaw was set, Hope imagined she was clenching her teeth to avoid snapping at the man for causing such a distraction. She refused to answer him when he addressed her, her eyes anchored to the shoreline. Snow's smile didn't falter at the dismissive message in Lightning's lack of response, instead turning a greeting to Temple, whom had apparently never been introduced to her boyfriend's acquaintance.

In the meantime, the pink-haired woman, Serah, eased away from the more talkative trio and stepped nearer into Lightning's view. She smiled up at the woman, her hands, demurely, folded behind her back, and offered a soft greeting. "Hey, sis."

Hope blinked in surprise as Lightning's astute focus shifted for the first time. It was hardly a fraction of a second that she left the swimmers unwatched to glance down at the other woman so as to acknowledge and accept her presence.

"Hey," she returned, quietly, before she resumed her watch.

Serah's small smile brightened slightly at the recognition, and she turned to follow the elder woman's gaze while she continued to speak.

"I'm surprised to see you here. I didn't realize lifeguard duty would be a part of your job description, too," she said, a touch of worry in her voice.

"It's not," Lightning replied, coldly however, the ice wasn't directed at Serah. "I'm stuck here under orders from the Guardian Corps. I'm to assess the quality of workmanship by the lifeguards in this sector. Your _pet_ isn't improving their performance."

Serah cringed (and so did Hope, a little bit) at hearing the sudden venom in the woman's voice. Hope knew it was wrong of him to keep eavesdropping, realizing their conversation was about to get very personal. And he knew he could only stare down at that garbage can so much longer before someone might pass by and question his sanity. Reluctantly, he cut himself off from the cloud of chatter around the lifeguards and dragged himself back to his chair. Nora glanced up at his return with another one of her teasing grins.

"You get lost or something, kiddo?"

"Found some litter on my way. You're the one that's always telling me to be a good Samaritan."

"Oh good, at least I went _somewhere_ right with you."

"Wh-What's that supposed to mean?"

Nora laughed at his reaction, patting his head as he sat down, face flushed. She was so impossible sometimes. He was quick to set her comment aside this time, though, leaning back in his chair and stuck looking at the backs of the lifeguards again. Snow's massive height hindered Hope from seeing Serah and how she was reacting to her talk with Lightning. While he waited and watched the gestures and expressions of the blond and his associates, Hope pondered why it hadn't struck him that Serah was Lightning's sister the second he saw her. The resemblance was uncanny, especially when they were beside each other. He hadn't expected the innocent smile of Serah to mesh in any way with the stern silence of Lightning.

Whatever talk the sisters were having about Snow behind his back, it ended quickly and negatively. Serah suddenly came back into view, clutching the man's arm and urgently trying to tug him away. A mix of anger and hurt distorted her soft features, despite the smile she fabricated to try and mask it. Snow – whom Hope though he had pegged as rather single-minded and lacking in perception – abruptly ended his conversation with the other lifeguards upon noticing her distress. He frowned and asked her something that she shook her head to with a faltering smile, covering for her sister most likely. The man didn't look like he was buying it and gave a restrained smile to the couple of lifeguards in farewell. Hope squinted to see him turn and struggle to bid the same farewell to Lightning.

Then, they were off, Snow slinging an arm over Serah's shoulder in comfort as they hastened up the beach, headed towards the boardwalk. The lifeguards' "nest" was caught in the stony grip of silence once more. Hope let out a long breath, his mind churning with all he'd learned from these strangers he used to occupy his time. Other kids his age would find his people watching to be "ew-creepy" or "stalker-ish," as he'd often been so eloquently told. His father called it "being nosy" but, he wasn't about to let thoughts of him intrude on his content. Hope didn't understand why he couldn't just enjoy people. It wasn't like he was going to gossip away about every little thing he heard on the latest social network, like the pre-teen a few beach umbrellas down from him was. Zeroed-in on one of those brand new paper-thin touch-activated phones, Hope didn't understand why the kid even bothered to come to the beach. If you couldn't just enjoy the sights, and the sounds, and the people all around enjoying the same thing, why even bother stepping out of the house?

Hope folded his arms behind his head, turning his face to the sun and letting the thoughts of other people and their problems smother any ill thoughts of his own. He pondered the story of Lightning, the security guard on beach patrol, and of her sister and her boyfriend and the argument over him. He wondered why she spoke of the man so contemptuously. He wondered why lifeguard duty was such a bother to her. He wondered, and wondered, and wondered until his eyes were closed against the blaze of the sun and he was lost in that drowsy, half-awake state of a dreamless beach nap. Once or twice he heard a short shriek of a whistle and rather than annoy and disturb him this time, it came as a welcome comfort.

He wasn't sure how long he dozed. He opened his eyes when he started feeling like a baked pretzel. As pleasant as beach naps were, they did have their drawbacks. His skin felt like it was sizzling beneath his shirt and a light sheet of sweat had just started to break out at the base of his scalp. He sat up and stretched, his back stiff from lying on the rigid plastic of the chair for so long.

"I'm goin' for a swim," he said to his mother beneath a yawn, tugging his shirt off over his head. "Wanna come?"

"Mmmm… I'll have to pass today," Nora replied with an apologetic smile, having not changed position since Hope dozed off.

He shrugged in indifference and unfolded from the chair to head down to the water, unable to quite shrug the sleepiness entirely away – another symptom of a beach-bum. Dragging an arm over his heavy-lidded eyes, Hope passed the lifeguards on his way down to the sea. He glanced up once to find their positions from earlier wholly unchanged. However long ago the visit from Snow and Serah had been, it hadn't done much to change the moody silence of "the nest." He didn't linger this time, intent on getting a swim in before having to pack up and head back to the hotel.

The sand got harder and cooler the closer he came to the waves. Shards of shells and sea rocks dotted his way. Splashing and laughter swelled up from the shallows as his toes touched the first layer of ivory foam, cool and inviting on his skin. The slight chill was quick to startle away the lingering sleepiness from his nap. He waded in further, the sea dragging back before surging forward, rushing over his knees, and then his hips, until he could just lie back to his shoulders and drift on the tide. There was nothing quite like the dangerous comfort of the ocean's pull. The frothy waves lapped over his shoulders, his body submerged in the refreshing depths. A contented sigh escaped his lips as he tilted his head back, letting the water cascade around his neck. All the heat abandoned him like a cloud of steam, blasted by the water from his pores. It was a blissful feeling.

He cast his gaze back to the shore, to the stroke of sand covered in bright, rainbow wheels of umbrellas and stark, tropical-printed towels. Why couldn't they just move here, he wondered – he and his mom? Why did they have to go back to the clustered, suffocating avenues of Palumpolum? Because it was his father's city, and they always had to follow where his father went. The people there were just as stern and introverted as Bartholomew. No amount of high-tech cafes, sterilized city parks, or pretty, chlorinated fountains could ever seem to make the people of Palumpolum smile. Why did anyone want to live there when a city like Bodhum – a city of laughter, serenity, and peace of mind – was just a train ride away?

How many other tourists were from Palumpolum here today? Looking over the beach and at all the resting, sun-tanned faces, it was impossible to tell where a regular Bodhum citizen began and a city escapee, swept up in the happy, Seaside contagion, ended. _Paradise_, Hope thought before his eyes unconsciously drifted to that bone-white skeleton where the lifeguards perched, unhappily staring at nothing but the water. _Or was it?_

A series of delighted squeals wailed in his ear from the swimmers nearby, whom he'd kept at a wide berth, seeking some solitude. He glanced over at them, noting the rising crest of a tall wave grow above their heads. Then, he noticed the rough pull of the sea around his waist and, turning in the surf, found the same wave curving over his own head. He barely had time to shut his mouth before the dark green wall crashed down over him and he was plunged down underwater. A vicious current of salty water caught in his mouth before he gathered the sense to hold his breath. The harsh saltiness burned his eyes before he could close them. It was hardly a moment he stayed beneath the waves before he was bobbed back up to the surface, coughing and gagging on the revolting tang of seawater.

His eyes blinked rapidly, trying to dissolve the effects of the bitterly sharp salt as quickly as possible. He growled in discomfort, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyelids, somehow thinking that would help squeeze out the saltwater. He blinked them open again when he heard a warning of false fear from one of the dads nearby. "Look out!" Still disoriented from the first unexpected blow, Hope twisted around in the water to face a second rough wave, the white crest already roaring above him. He didn't really understand what happened when he fell under the second time. He knew he definitely wasn't prepared for it, still coughing up the taste of the bay from the first wave. Did he get pulled out beyond the shallows? He couldn't be certain. Was that why it was so dark? And quiet?

He felt like he was floating but, he wasn't sure if he was underwater. He had to be though, didn't he? It already felt like forever since the second wave came though. Was he still in the ocean, lost somewhere in the salty, blue-green depths? Had he remembered to hold his breath? He must have, otherwise he would have drowned. Wasn't that how it worked? He was breathing though so he must have been holding his breath. Then, an odd thought struck him: How could he be breathing at the same time he was holding his breath? It was upon that realization that he regained consciousness.

He hadn't known he was unconscious until the darkness abruptly faded out to light. It was blinding, glaring straight into his eyes. There was a shape above him that blocked out some of the light, but his head was too muddled to focus on it. Sound slowly penetrated his ears – voices and the sound of the sea. He was on the beach; he could feel the hot sand beneath his fingers and the light in his eyes was the sun. The shadowed shape above him slowly gained definition and the voice he was hearing was coming from it. The sound of words was muted in his ears, but as he started to see a face in the dark shape, he could use the shape of the mouth to help connect them. Slowly, he began to acknowledge the words.

"…ey…Hey, kid…Come on, kid, I need to know that you can hear me. You've got to give me a sign that you know what I'm saying. Can you hear me?"

He recognized the voice – a low, mildly husky sound, controlled and, right now, careful. The face became clear to him: war-thirsty blue eyes searched his; droplets of water sat suspended at the ends of speared pink hair; and the gray T-shirt was dark with water as it clung to her athletic body. Hope wasn't sure how to react at first. Should he be afraid? Should he be panicking? How bad was it? Mercifully, his brain didn't let him overreact and instead answered her questioning.

"Yeah…I hear you."

There was a foul taste in his mouth that made it hard to talk. The woman above him drew back a little and raised her hand.

"How many fingers?"

"…You can't be serious –"

"_How many fingers?_"

Hope felt his body subconsciously cringe at the authority in her manner, and he instantly regretted denying her an answer the first time she asked. Timidly, he replied.

"T-Two."

"And now?"

"Four…"

"Good. What's your name, kid?"

His mouth was halfway open when another voice said it for him, wild and frantic, and undeniably his mother. Hope turned his gaze sideways and stiffened in mortification when he found a circle of bikini-clad strangers staring down at him. Nora tore through the crowd, her face petrified as she dropped down beside him.

"Oh my…Hope! What happened? Are you hurt? Are you okay?"

"Ma'am," Lightning said with restrained calm. "I need you to sit back for a moment."

Hope glanced up at the lifeguard and her eyes suddenly flicked away from him, glaring over his head.

"You two!" she suddenly shouted. "Don't just stand there! Crowd control! Get these people out of here, _now_!"

He heard a scrambling of feet in the sand and then a pair of voices, feigning control, coaxing the crowd away – the juvenile couple, Dean and Temple, no doubt. On the verge of tears, Nora leaned back as Lightning returned her focus to him, switching back into caretaker mode as if by the press of a button.

"What's your name, kid?" she asked again.

"Didn't you hear her say it?" he replied, glancing at Nora who forced on a smile through her fear.

"I need _you_ to tell me."

"It's Hope, Hope Estheim."

"What year is it, Hope?"

He told her.

"And what month?"

He told her.

"Is this your mother?"

"Who else would it be?"

Nora managed a laugh, brushing her fingers across her eyes. Lightning cracked a smile and sat back.

"Sounds like you're alright, kid."

"What happened out there?" Nora asked, her hand suddenly catching Hope's as she turned her panic-stricken gaze to the other woman.

"If I had to guess, he might have briefly gone into shock – got caught off guard and panicked. The doctors will be able to better tell you when they take a look at him."

"Doctors?" he exclaimed, aghast.

Hope tried to sit up, all his faculties regained and fully functioning. Nora wouldn't have it, forcing him back down on his back with a fiercely protective order. Inwardly, he sighed, desperate not to be medically examined.

"I don't need a doctor, I'm fine!"

"Standard procedure, kid," Lightning said, rising to her feet and casting her watchful gaze around at the other beach-goers being cleared away.

"Better safe than sorry," Nora said to him, having pulled herself together into her "tough mom" guise, although a sparkle of tears still hovered at the edge of her eye.

"Mom, _I'm fine_," Hope pressed, if not to get out of a visit to the hospital then to reassure her.

Nora nodded because she didn't know what else to do, her bottom lip trembling. In his head, Hope groaned in despair. He could see the grim remainder of his vacation already: thousands of phone calls home – harsh reprimands from his father, tearful reassurances from his over-dramatic aunts – countless follow-up visits to Bodhum doctors, and then countless more to the ones in Palumpolum; and a million hastily ignored I'm-fines. Why _in hell_ did he have to go and almost drown? He'd never forgive himself for such stupidity. In his peripheral, he saw Lightning crouch back down, miraculously addressing _him_ instead of his mother – which he found most elder individuals were apt to do when she appeared, making him seem even more like a child.

"There's an ambulance on the way," Lightning told him. "If you can stand up, we'll meet them further up the beach. How about it, can you stand?"

"Of course," Hope grumbled, turning away from her penetrating eyes as he helped himself to sit upright, Nora fussing over him as he did.

Sand stuck uncomfortably against the back of his body. He just wanted to go back to the nice little hotel and take a long shower. He still didn't understand why they had to bring him to the hospital when, clearly, there was nothing wrong with him. He troubled another glance up at Lightning and, judging by the return of her stony mask and complete lack of concern, he could tell even she knew there was no need for a doctor. She had to follow the rules though, he supposed, if his analysis of her during the day was any indicator.

He got to his feet with no trouble, not even a touch dizzy. He still felt a little disoriented from the quick succession of events but, he didn't let it show. Nora crushed her son against her side, her arms locked around him like iron hand-cuffs. Head bent, Hope went along with his mother as she followed the lifeguard without a struggle, although all he wanted to do was throw himself back into the water and dive down so deep that no one would ever be able to find him again. The amount of stares from the strangers along the beach was humiliating. What were they thinking about him, or whispering about him to one another? He must have looked like such a loser, dripping wet, huddled against his mother's side, and dragging himself up to meet an ambulance. Heat rose up into his face and he did his best not to meet any of the curious looks leering his way. Instead, he ended up focusing on the back of Lightning's shrunken shirt as she lead them away from the ocean, her steps just as sure and steady as they'd been all day.

The ambulance was just rolling in onto a little slip of sand at the base of the boardwalk, lights silently warding off any lingering passersby. Hope sighed, audibly, as a pair of uniformed men hopped out of the back of the van and approached them. He heard Lightning convey her report on the incident, tone clipped and even, hands resting against her hips. The men listened intently, her address drawing their complete attention. Hope could tell they hadn't been expecting such diligence. The conversation was brief and to the point, and the man nodded affirmatively at its conclusion before then focusing on prying Nora off of him.

Grudgingly, Hope followed all of the directions given o him, propped up on one of the seats in the back of the ambulance where he was subjected to all manner of irritating little tests. It was a few minutes that he underwent a series of lights shining in his eyes, gloved fingers on his neck, and monotonous questioning before he was officially dubbed "okay." He was instructed to stay where he was and, all of a sudden, Hope was alone, and in peace and quiet. He leaned his head back against the cool, sterile-white leather of the ambulance seat, dreading the chain of events that would follow, starting with the trip to the hospital.

Further away on the sand, Hope watched his mother as she caught Lightning, whom was already on her way back to resume her duties on the beach. The woman seemed surprise to be caught up with by the other, and as Nora began to speak, an air of impatience fell over Lightning, but she stood through what Nora had to say.

"I can't thank you enough. When I heard the whistle…I just didn't even think anything of it but, when I realized it was Hope I…"

Her voice broke and she brought her hand to her mouth, closing her eyes to compose herself. Lightning waited, silent as the air, her face impassive as she surveyed the other woman. With a veiled sniffle, Nora regained her wits and raised her face to look at Lightning.

"I want to reward you for saving his life. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you, Miss –"

"Sergeant Farron, ma'am," Lightning replied, briskly cutting her off. "And that's not necessary, nor will I accept it. I just did the job assigned to me. Your son's fine so, enjoy the rest of your time here in Bodhum."

Hope thought her words sounded pre-recorded, another "standard issue" protocol to remind tourists of Bodhum's perfection. Nora didn't seem to interpret it that way, looking at the lifeguard in a conflicted manner. Then, to Hope's utter horror, he watched as his mother stepped up and embraced Lightning. The younger woman's eyes widened a little in surprise and for the first time that day, she looked completely lost. Her arms had risen as if to defend herself from an oncoming attack at the other woman's abrupt motion, and now sat helplessly suspended from her sides, like she had no idea where they were supposed to go. It wasn't often she was smothered with such gratitude, from the looks of it. When Nora pulled away, she said something Hope couldn't hear before turning and heading towards the ambulance.

Lightning stood stunned, perhaps a little shell-shocked, before she shook her head, strings of rosy wet hair dancing against her forehead. She was quick to pull herself together, the chilled visage of protection recollecting just in time to see the red suits of Dean and Temple come running up the path of sand to the beach. The last Hope saw of Lightning was a thunderous look on her hardened face as she marched over to the pair of novice lifeguards, cowering at the edge of the sand. Then, Nora climbed up beside him and the ambulance doors were closed behind her. Nora smiled at him and the vehicle began to roll beneath them.

"Thank the fal'Cie for that Sergeant Farron," Nora started saying – she was prone to excessive talking when she was nervous.

Knowing this, Hope closed his eyes and tried to zone out again. As far as he was concerned, if he wasn't on the brink of death, they shouldn't be making such a big deal out of the whole thing. He just wanted to go back to the beach and pretend nothing had happened. He'd even rather listen to his mom pull his leg about girls rather than worry so much over him.

"She moved so fast," she was saying. "I didn't even know she'd left. And when she said she had to administer CPR, oh, I thought the worst and…"

Hope's eyes flew open and he bolted forward in his seat, nails digging into the white leather beneath him as he stared at her in terror, face turning a dark crimson.

"What did you just say?" he almost squealed.

"What?" Nora replied, hand over her heart, frightened by his sudden movement.

"You said CPR…"

"Well, yes, honey. You weren't breathing so…"

"CPR!? Like…_mouth to mouth!?_"

His face grew even redder as he started to imagine it: Lightning, the blue-eyed lifeguard, giving _him mouth to mouth_. Nora didn't look like she understood but, for a previously un-kissed adolescent such as himself, the imagined event in his mind just made him want to pass out all over again.

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**A/N: Please leave me your thoughts in a review if you have the time (and/or patience). Constructive criticism is most welcome. Kudos to those of you who read it through and didn't scroll away screaming when you saw the word count. ;P Much appreciated! :3  
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